Guilty As Charged
by TheNobodyofaSOLDIER
Summary: [Thug!Levi x Police!Reader] [AU]


[Warning for some suggestive dialogue!]

[Levi's perspective:]

Chaos ensues in the alley outside this cloudy, filthy bar. A foul blend of alcohol, cigarette smoke, blood and sweat permeate through the cramped space as chairs fly and punches are thrown. The commanding shouts of the police officers cut through the unintelligible mass of curses and threats from the brawl, merely adding to the deafening volume and decreasing what little space was left. I sink back into the shadows, observing the scene before me, undetected by the angry drunkards or frustrated cops in their struggle for victory. Although I utterly despise soiling my hands, I stand guilty for starting this. I purposely angered the sloppiest, worst tempered, alcohol induced moron on the scene. All of this idiocy happened for one purpose only:

I knew you would be dispatched here.

Yes, although a newly fledged police officer, you would be dragged here along with your superiors, adding to the brute force needed to suppress this madness.

You know I'm here. I can see it written all over your adorable face, [e/c] eyes wide, your shoulders hunched defensively, your [h/c] ponytail slipping out of place. I find myself chuckling as I watch you dodge and avoid the heavy objects thrusted your way or the fists of your enemies. For a newbie, you sure are agile. Still, your eyes dart about, anxiously looking for the one who started it all.

For one fleeting moment, our lines of sight cross. Despite the growing murkiness around me, I can tell by your brows jolting up and your silent gasp, that you can see me. I cannot withhold my smile. Once I make sure that you've been reeled in, I disappear completely exiting through a back entrance into the chilly alley. A part of me doubts your following me, but I'm more than willing to take my chances.

After all, we've been through this before.

A broken street lamp flickers above. The heels of my boots click upon contact with each moist brick. The musty smell of old beer bottles and garbage are more than my nostrils can take. I spot a few rats scurrying around the dumpsters, scavenging for crumbs.

Truly disgusting, but I'm willing to put up with anything at this point.

I hear the metal door creak open and clang behind me. Your clean aroma peels through the ghastly stench of the alley. The sole of your shoes scrape the wet dirt on the bricks as you tiptoe behind me. You silly thing, you're fully aware that's not how to sneak up on a criminal.

You want me to notice you.

I stand still, listening, waiting for you to get closer and closer. I can feel your warmth. I perceive your breaths coming out slowly and carefully. Suddenly, you grab my forearm, turn me about and press my back into the wall. Your arm cages my chest, your gun tightly grasped. Your breaths are heavier and desperate, warming my numbed cheeks. As you force my back into the damp wall, you mutter, tentatively,

"Levi Ackerman."

Ah, my name sounds perfect from you. You suddenly clamp your lips together as if hiding something.

Yes, you enjoy this little game of ours. The trouble I cause to bring you out here, letting you catch me and drag me to a secluded area. Them, of course, you utter those words, striking terror into others but a strange, twisted excitement for me:

"You're under arrest."

I watch as a little specks of red tinge your cheeks when a small smirk creeps to my lips. Your eyes cloud over with unspoken, suppressed desires. Of course, you know well that you can't throw all the blame on me: you're guilty too. Perhaps even more so. You know this is wrong. You are assumed to be a strong symbol of justice, a representation of morals. When you strolled the streets of the city, those lowly citizens see you defeating evil, able to resist the temptations of the world.

And here you stand, sinking to my level, listening to such lecherous wants.

The swell of your breasts strain against the buttons of your shirt as you press into me. A tiny droplet of sweat trails its way down your temple, soaking loose strands of hair sticking to your face. As your arm rubs against mine, jolts of strong electricity prickle the skin from the slight contact. Unable to further resist, I reach up and lightly tug at your bottom lip.

When your breath catches in the back of your throat, my smile widens just a hint. Soon, your breathes would turn into gasps and cries of pleasure. That tiny sweat drop would soak your body from smoldering kisses and illicit caresses. I smirk as these thoughts surface in my mind. I know the right words to whisper as I tease you. I know how to touch you to leave you trembling with desire for me.

This dangerous game is far too exciting to even put into words. All these crimes I committed just to see your face when I finally pushed you over the edge made it worth the trouble. The fact that you risked a degraded image in front of your coworkers made it even better.

I pull you closer to my face, you losing the ability to breath anymore. The flush on your cheeks spreads from your cheeks to your jaw. As our lips barely make contact, itching to close that damn space, I ask,

"Ah, fuck. What'd I do this time?"

Your mouth, dry and parted, hisses slightly as you reply,

"Violent assault and disturbing the peace."

Tilting my head, I eliminate the air between us but applied no pressure. No, I am not giving you what you want yet. You would be driven mad if need be. Squeezing your eyes together, A tiny mewl resounds in the back of your throat. A low chuckle vibrates in the back of mine.

There would soon be another thing to add to that last, but that would remain a secret between you and me alone.

Remaining in this same position, knowing well how much it irritated the hell out of you, I murmur in reply, the breath heating your waiting mouth,

"Guilty as charged."


End file.
